The Astonishing Return of Norah Wells (36 page)

In the tall red-brick house, the world is going to sleep.

Or it's trying to.

In her bed, her knees hitched to her chest, the little girl closes her eyes. Even if she doesn't feel the big dog next to her any more, he must be listening.

If you help me to make everyone happy, if you help me to persuade everyone to stay, I promise I'll let you go, Louis
.

In the bathroom, The Mother Who Stayed switches off her phone. She pushes her hair out of her eyes and straightens her spine and looks at herself in the mirror.

We're going to be okay,
she says as she thinks of that small dark place inside her body where her baby is growing.
It'll be just the two of us, and we're going to be just fine.

In his bedroom, the father sits on the end of the bed. Shouldn't he have got used to the thought of her disappearing? God knows he'd had enough practice. And, he was the one who'd told Norah to leave. But this was different: it changed everything. His eyes fall on the photo of him and The Mother Who Stayed. A new life inside her, a life that is part of him. That changed everything. He wants to be strong, to look after them both.

Be brave, like Foxy Fox,
wasn't that what Willa was always telling him?

If only he knew how.

In the lounge, The Mother Who Left kisses her little boy and tucks him in. At least it's all said now, she thinks. She looks out at the stars and the moon and wishes, like she's wished since she was a little girl, that she could fly away, that the sky would take her up, up and away.

The teenage girl slips into her little sister's room and climbs into bed beside her and strokes her cheek.

Willa, wake up
…
she whispers.
Willa
…

Her little sister has been kept in the dark for too long, she deserves to know the truth – maybe more than anyone.

The little girl opens her eyes and smiles.
You're here?

The teenage girl nods and then she tells her about The Mother Who Left, how she's not well, how she might not make it, and about The Mother Who Stayed, how she'll soon be family, proper family, because there's a new baby on the way, a baby that belongs to her and to their father – to all of them. And for once, the little girl doesn't ask questions: she just listens, as if she's always known.

The world is waking up. Or it's trying to, anyway.

It's waking up in the small town of Holdingwell.

It's waking up on Willoughby Street.

It's waking up in Number 77, the tall red-brick house with the scaffolding that stretches up to the roof.

Ella goes back up to her room under the roof and the big dog takes her place beside Willa. He stays with her until the sun rises, and then he looks down on the world.

In front of the house, the roofers sit in their van, eating sandwiches.

We should get the job finished today,
one of them says.

The man next to him looks up at the roof and shakes his head.

We'll have to fix the damage from the storm first. Draw up a new estimate.
 

At the top of the house, dawn tugs at Ella but she's too tired to let it interrupt her sleep.

She dreams that the boy she loves has climbed up the drainpipe and the windowsills and that he's stepped into her bedroom. She dreams that he lies beside her and wraps his arms around her and kisses her.

She opens her eyes and looks at her phone. It's nearly time for school.

She turns and pulls the duvet over her head.

Not yet
…
not quite yet.
 

In the main bedroom, Adam reaches for Fay; he draws her warm body to his and rests his hands on her stomach. He's too tired to notice that she's only just come back to bed, that she's fully dressed, that her bags are packed and waiting.

Downstairs, Nat stands by the front door, his hair ruffled from sleep, his eyelids heavy. Onkel Walter lifts him off the ground and, together with Mama, they step out onto Willoughby Street.

The stairs creak.

The front door slams shut just as Fay comes down the stairs carrying her suitcase.

Louis has only been away for twenty-four hours but already he's learnt the rules: he can watch and he can be present and he can help in small ways, like easing Willa back to sleep, but he mustn't interfere.

Fay walks out of the house and onto Willoughby Street. She doesn't see Norah, Nat and Walter making their way to the bus stop at the other end of the street. She takes off in the opposite direction, her eyes fixed ahead.
It's time to go home,
she whispers to herself.

Louis takes a big breath and barks. And then barks again, over and over.

The barks ricochet off the walls and up the stairs and under the doors and all the way up to the top of the house, to the attic, to the broken roof.

The roofers get out of the van and climb up the scaffolding, whistling.

Ella sits up. The black wings flutter in her stomach.

Louis barks again, this time from outside the house, from under the cherry tree. Tiny green buds push up from its branches. Summer will be here soon.

Through the kitchen window, Ella looks up Willoughby Street. The crow squawks, its beak pecks at her ribcage. She sees three figures heading in the direction of town. A man carrying a little boy. And a woman, her long red hair wrapped around her neck like a scarf.

Ella pushes her feet into her trainers and runs out onto the street.

The man with the rainbow jumper stands on the kerb playing his trumpet. Beside them stands the man with the dreadlocks and dark skin and wooden cross. He gets out his guitar and joins in with the rainbow man's playing…
trees of green
…
red roses too
…

The girl dressed in black is also there.

Rose Pegg hands out slices of cake and Lily carries round a tray with cups of tea. Her Chihuahuas go up to Louis and play between his legs.

We're so glad you all came,
says Lily.

Yes, we weren't sure you'd get our message,
says Rose.

When they see Ella running after Norah they all clap and cheer.

Adam reaches out again to the other side of the bed. She's not there.

He puts on his glasses, grabs the box from the dresser, and runs downstairs.

At last, Louis catches up with Fay. He lies down across her feet.

She stumbles and looks back at the house.

Adam looks up Willoughby Street. Fay's there, carrying the suitcase she moved in with.

He breaks into a run.

Back in the house, Willa hears a scratching noise coming from downstairs. And then a series of small yelps. She glances around her room, forgetting for a moment that Louis isn't here. Another yelp. She goes downstairs.

Pushing through the pain in her ankle, Ella runs to the bus stop at the town end of Willoughby Street. The bus that goes to the station pulls up.

The crow flaps and flaps. Ella runs faster.

‘Stop!' she calls after her mum. ‘Stay!'

The wind has picked up again. It swallows her voice and throws it up to the clouds.

‘Mum!'

The crow flies out of her mouth.

As Ella watches the bird soar into the white clouds, she sees that it's not black, like she thought. And it's not screeching. It's twittering and buzzing, its tiny body suspended in the air. It's not a crow at all, it's a tiny hummingbird, its feathers a flash of blue and green, its wings beating so fast they disappear against the blue sky.

Norah turns round and they look at each other.

Ella holds up her hand and waves and remembers the morning when her mother left her at the school gate and thinks,
in the end, she did come back.

Walter turns round. Nat's asleep in his arms. He whispers something to Norah and Norah leaves her bag on the pavement and runs to Ella.

At the opposite end of the street, Fay stops to catch her breath and then she turns to take one last look at the place that's been her home.

Adam runs towards her, his hand closed around a small, velvet box.

When he reaches her, he gets down on one knee.

She feels a flit in her stomach, a coming to life.

He holds open his palm. A ring.

Marry me,
he says.

She takes Adam's hand and lifts him to his feet. As she does, she looks past him, and her eyes fix on Norah. They look at each other, the two mothers standing at either end of Willoughby Street.

Norah holds her hand to her chest and nods gently, and then looks back at Ella and smiles.

Fay turns to Adam and kisses him, and through her kiss she whispers:

Yes.
 

Back at Number 77 Willoughby Street, Willa stands in the hallway trying to work out where the scratching and the yelping are coming from. A morning breeze sweeps through the house; the back door to the garden has been left open.

A low, quiet bark comes from the den under the stairs.

Louis?
 

The scar under Willa's left eye feels hot and scratchy but she leaves it alone. She doesn't want it to start bleeding again.

As she gets closer to the den, she notices that the door's been pushed in and that it's lying on its side. A shuffle. The smell of earth and warm breath. A pair of big amber eyes, like warning beacons.

Willa steps closer.

Mrs Fox?
She flicks on the small electric light bulb.

Nestled into Mrs Fox are four tiny bodies, eyes clamped shut, small ears in stiff peaks, wet noses, heads covered in dark, spiky fur like Ella's new haircut. Willa knows that this is how they are born: in four weeks, their fur will have turned red like an autumn leaf.

I knew you'd come,
Willa whispers.

Mrs Fox gets up and stretches. The cubs tumble backwards. The Mother Who Left licks their heads and pushes them together, closing the gap she's left behind. She holds Willa's gaze for a second and then slinks past her and out into the hall.

Willa runs after her.

Mrs Fox?
Willa calls.

But Mrs Fox is already in the lounge.

She darts through the back door.

Runs across the garden.

Ducks under the gooseberry bush.

And then she's gone.

Willa looks out of her bedroom window. It's rained all morning but now the sun's setting and everything sparkles – the grass and the pavement and the cars.

They're gathering outside. Ella's sitting on the wall next to Sai; they're both wearing new trainers, white and shiny. They go running together every day. Ella's hair is growing out: long red bits hang down her shoulders; only the ends are still dark, like they've been dipped in ink.

The Miss Peggs are there with their Chihuahuas. They're wearing purple bows in their hair and they've tied purple bows to the cherry tree too.

Mummy Norah kneels under the tree, loosening the earth with a trowel. Sometimes, she looks from Mummy to Daddy with sad eyes, like she's searching for something, but it never lasts long. Most of the time, she smiles.

With his small fingers, Nat helps Mummy Norah dig the earth.

The branches of the tree are dotted with furry green buds. It'll be a few more months before it blossoms.

There are no tiles stacked up in the front garden. And the scaffolding's gone.

Daddy stands by the gate and watches Mummy's car coming down Willoughby Street. She's been working at the hospital and she collected Onkel Walter from the Animal Ark on the way. He's one of the vets there. When Mummy steps out of the car, Daddy darts forward and holds her elbow. Mummy's tummy's so big that she's not very steady on her feet. Willa can't wait for her little brother to be born. She's asked Mummy whether they can call him Louis. Mummy isn't sure yet, but Willa's working on it.

Onkel Walter comes and gives Mummy Norah and Nat a kiss, and then Mummy Norah goes over to Mummy and takes her hand and looks down at her big bump and smiles. Everyone looks at Mummy's big bump these days.

Ella jumps off the wall, runs up the front steps and comes into the hallway.

‘Willa!' she calls up the stairs. ‘Everyone's here!'

Willa cradles the wooden box in her arms. She's had Louis's ashes in her room for months now, and although the empty feeling hasn't gone away it's helped, knowing that a bit of him is here with her.

She stops on the landing and looks through one of the windows onto the back garden. The fox cubs are more or less grown up now. They sometimes come to say hello, but most of the time they're out having adventures. Willa sees a pair of amber eyes under the gooseberry bush. It's Mrs Fox. She always comes home.

As Willa walks past the den she smiles. When she closes her eyes and lets the pictures form behind her eyelids, she sees Louis. He'll always be here.

Sometimes, Onkel Walter brings home poorly animals from the Animal Ark and puts them in the den for Willa to look after. At first, she was worried that Louis would be upset that she's using his special den for other animals, but then she thinks about how Louis loved everyone – even the foxes in the end – and how he'd want her to be happy and to have animals to look after.

Onkel Walter says not to get too attached to the poorly animals because some of them won't get better, and that if she lets herself get too close it will make her sad. But Willa ignores him. She knows that sometimes you only get to love someone for a while and that you'd better love them as much as you can before they go away, otherwise you'll regret it.

She walks down the hall and stops in front of a big framed picture of Mummy. She's sitting in the garden surrounded by the peonies she loves. Daddy took it and put it on the wall for everyone to see.

And then Willa goes through the front door.

Ella stands on the top step. She takes her hand and, together, they walk to the cherry tree where the others are waiting for them. Although they don't all live together (Mummy Norah and Onkel Walter and Nat have moved into a house that belonged to Mummy) they're still a family. Mummy Norah's got a silky blue scarf wrapped around her head; it makes her look mysterious, but she wears it because the treatment made all her hair fall out. Mummy explained that, when you've got cancer, the medicine you take makes you sick before it makes you better, that sometimes that's the way things go in life. Willa's decided that, no matter what happens, even if they have rows and get cross at each other, they're going to stick together.

I therefore invite you
…
to stay here with me for ever
…
That's what Foxy Fox said to all the animals.
We will make a little underground village, with streets and houses on each side
…

Sai comes over and gives Ella her trumpet case. She puts it on the ground, snaps open the clasps and lifts out her instrument. And then she starts to play Mummy Norah's special song. The words float through the branches of the blossom tree and up into the bright blue sky…
and I think to myself
…
what a wonderful world
…
And Mummy Norah and Mummy are singing along… And then Daddy joins in too, and when he does, he looks straight at Mummy…
But what they're really saying is I love you
…

Mummy Norah looks over at Ella and smiles. Ella still gets cross at Mummy Norah sometimes, and shouts at her for having been away for so long, but sometimes Ella lets her come running with her and Sai, and sometimes Ella lets her give her a trumpet lesson.

Willa eases the lid off the wooden box.

The empty feeling shrinks a bit and it's like she can feel Louis a little closer: his smelly fur from having been out in the rain, his warm breath, the thump of his tail, the sloshy noise he makes when he drinks, his warm tongue licking her palm.

Mummy said that Willa didn't have to scatter his ashes if she didn't want to. Part of Willa's scared that if she empties Louis out onto the ground she'll lose him for ever and that the empty feeling will get bigger again, but then she remembers what Mummy Norah said about letting him go.

Mummy comes over and takes Willa's hand. Willa can feel the sharp bit of Mummy's ring digging into her palm. It's the ring that means that Mummy and Daddy are going to be together for ever.

It marks the start of our big adventure
…
Mummy told Willa.

But Willa's learnt something, this last year of being seven years old: adventures don't have beginnings and endings and they aren't about going away or staying in once place. They're happening all the time, every second: you just need to open your eyes to see them. Louis knew that – for him, every day was an adventure.

‘You okay, my darling?' Mummy asks.

Willa nods. She walks up to the cherry tree and turns the box upside down. The ashes fall into the earth that Mummy Norah loosened around the roots. There's a gust of wind and some of the ash swirls up into the cherry tree's branches. There's a second gust, harder this time, and as they all look up, another swirl of ash shoots into the sky, past the gleaming roof tiles and up into the big, yellow sun.